


Wrong Ticket, Right Train

by Dreamin



Series: Christmas in July 2020 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Christmas, Crossover, F/M, Granada Sherlolly, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pre-Relationship, Victorian (non-TAB) Molly in the Sherlock Holmes (1984) world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24817378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Sherlock meets an intriguing young pathologist on the train back to London.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: Christmas in July 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778281
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	Wrong Ticket, Right Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



> This is Granada Sherlock and Molly, but it's not part of The Adventures of the Two Hearts series, it's just another way for the two of them to meet. The Christmas in July prompt for this was "getting on the wrong flight" but that doesn't exactly work for the Victorian Era, so wrong train it is.

Sherlock Holmes huffed in annoyance. He was in desperate need of a cigarette and would have lit one, in complete defiance of the No Smoking sign in the window, if it weren’t for his compartment-mate. Despite his rather Bohemian lifestyle, Sherlock prided himself on being a gentleman, and a gentleman never smoked in front of a lady.

And the woman sitting across from him was nothing if not a lady. By the calluses on her fingers, he could tell she was a doctor, specifically a pathologist, and the cuffs of her jacket told him her late father had also been a doctor. Despite her scientific background, her choice in reading material (Jane Austen’s _Pride and Prejudice_ ) told him she was a romantic at heart. That seemed odd to him, since she was clearly thirty and had never been married.

 _Surely a romance-minded woman would be married by now._ He examined her further. _A classic English rose complexion, reddish-brown hair that a more fanciful person would call cinnamon, large brown eyes that reflect higher than average intelligence, a small and delicate frame that belies her strength if she’s dealing with corpses all day._

Despite his frequent declarations that love and sentiment were the enemies of intellect, there were times when Sherlock felt undeniable attraction to a member of the fairer sex. Being physically and intellectually drawn to Irene Adler was the closest he’d come to changing his mind about romance, and he had given The Woman little thought after she’d left England.

Now, though, he felt … something as he regarded the lady in front of him and of course felt the need to analyze it. _Attraction, certainly. She’s a beautiful woman and if I’m being honest with myself, I tend to prefer petite and slender brunettes. Admiration of her intelligence and perseverance – being a female doctor in such a male-dominated field of study cannot be easy. But even after suppressing such fanciful thoughts for so long, I can tell there’s something else, but what?_

He pondered the issue of his undefined feelings until a conductor came by to check their tickets. Sherlock dutifully presented his ticket just as the lady did hers, but while his ticket was returned without difficulty, hers was not.

“Miss,” the conductor said, “this ticket is for Bristol. This is the train to London.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise and dismay. “Oh no! I’m supposed to be in Bristol, I’m starting a new position after the holidays.”

“You can catch a train to Bristol in the morning, Miss, but you’ll still need to pay for a ticket to London.”

She shook her head sadly. “I spent the last of the money I had with me on this ticket…”

Realizing what he felt was an interesting mix of possessiveness and protectiveness, Sherlock mentally shoved his feelings aside as he stepped in. “Allow me to pay the difference,” he said as he pulled his billfold from the pocket of his jacket.

“But you don’t even know me,” she protested weakly.

“Nonsense, I know more than enough.” He handed over the amount the conductor stated then turned to her when they were alone again. “Sherlock Holmes.”

“Oh! You’re the detective from _The Strand_. I’ve read all of Dr. Watson’s stories.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m Margaret Hooper.”

Sherlock knew she expected him to shake her hand, so he surprised her by kissing her knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hooper.”

She grinned. “I’ve been deduced already, I see. Tell me, what was it that gave me away?”

He grinned back. “Your hands. What they don’t tell me is why a pathologist would be willing to hide away in Bristol when she could be in London.”

“No one in London was hiring,” Dr. Hooper said with a shrug.

“Nonsense – I know for a fact that St. Bartholomew’s is in desperate need of a competent pathologist. If you will permit me, as soon as we are in London, I will contact Dr. Stamford and arrange for an interview.”

“There’s no need-”

“Of course there is,” he cut in, his eyes twinkling. “I demand the best from my colleagues, and St. Bartholomew’s current pathologist is mediocre.”

The young lady was torn, he could see it in her eyes, but all she asked was, “But where would I live?”

He had an answer for that too. “My landlady, Mrs. Hudson, is friends with another landlady down the street, a Mrs. Turner. Her last tenant recently left, so she has a vacancy.”

“This is all so sudden,” she said, shaking her head a bit.

Sherlock softened his smile. “Perhaps it is destiny that led you to the wrong train.”

She considered his words for a moment then, decision made, she smiled back. “Perhaps it is.”


End file.
